


Collins

by bklue18



Series: Surviving Dunkirk [1]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 05:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11662566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bklue18/pseuds/bklue18
Summary: A POV from the different characters who survived Dunkirk.Based on characters from Dunkirk - the cinematic masterpiece from Christopher Nolan.





	Collins

I prepared myself for the plunge.

Though I knew that I should have jumped out while I can, my nerves got the better of me and I decided to take a chance.

But, now as I see myself fast approaching the waters, I can't help but think of the worst to come.

I closed my eyes for a second; remembering her smile as she kissed me good-bye. She was frightened and so was I but in order to give me a peace of mind, she kept it hidden. My brave wife. My brave Jemima.

I opened my eyes as I felt the oncoming impact. It was my turn to be brave.

I have to survive this.

I have to be brave.

* * *

The plane landed in the water mid-way towards Dunkirk.

I looked up at Farrier.

His plane flew its course, focusing on the target in front of him.

I looked back at my plane. It was time to get out.

I hurriedly unbuckled my straps and lifted my hands to open the cockpit door. What I thought would be a quick escape became a horrifying race against my demise. As water started to seep into my cockpit, the door to my cockpit refused to budge, leading me to a forlorn conclusion that I would possibly go down with my plane.

I tried to pry open the door again. This time, I managed to fit a palm through. Perhaps my waving might catch the eye of the boat I passed earlier. Maybe they could help.

I did it for another minute or so only to realize that it was futile.

I was sinking by the second and my palm was not noticeable enough for a rescue.

I felt around for something big to break the door. Touching something large from the panel, I pulled it with all my might as it dislodged. I raised it up and attempted to break the door but it wasn't working.

As I struggled to find a way out, my arms lost its strength and the large object.

A single dreadful thought came into my mind - I was going to die here.

The few seconds I spent looking for the object gave way to thoughts of Jemima. I couldn't die here. Not today. Not without a fight.

I tried to break the door again with all my might as the water level rose to my neck. The water rose with speed and I slowly saw the hope slipping away as I went under.

It was only a second when I heard the sound of glass shattering. I looked to see the large pole coming down for a second hit before I was free to come up for air. A hand reached out to me and I gratefully took it.

I wasn't dying here.

* * *

A teenage boy hurriedly put a blanket over me as I sat at the corner of the fishermen boat, following my near-death experience.

The captain of the boat looked at me. "You alright, son?"

I nodded. "Y-Yes. Thank you."

"Some hot tea, sir?"

I looked to my left where the same teenage boy stood with a cup in his hand. I gave him a small smile as I took it from him.   
  
He must be the captain's son.

I sipped the tea as I took a moment to thank the Lord for my rescue. "How did you know I wasn't an enemy's plane?"

The captain smiled. "I'd recognize a Spitfire anywhere. My son was in the Royal Air Force as well. He was a Hurricane pilot... lost in the opening weeks of the war."

I didn't know what to say. No amount of gratitude from me was going to be enough for a man who had lost his son to the same war.

I was brought back to reality when a loud explosion rang out. A bomber plane and several fighter planes had just attacked the minesweeper. The captain seemed to know the severity of the situation and headed straight for the sinking ship despite the leaking oil rushing from the downed ship.

Our boat dodged raining bullets from the fighter planes above as we headed toward the fleeing soldiers. I shrugged off the blanket and placed the cup on a shelf by the side as I walked to the back of the boat where the captain's son prepared to help the soldiers get on board.

He looked at me. "You should rest, sir."

I shook my head. "You'll need all the help you can get. Let me help."

He nodded just as the first soldier reached the boat covered in the minesweeper's oil. Soon, we were bringing more soldiers on board as they seeked refuge from the cold, oil-stained waters. The teenage boy and I took turns passing blankets and life jackets around for those new passengers. As I helped another soldier on board, the Spitfire roared above.

I gritted my teeth. "Come on Farrier. Get that bastard."

The enemies above did a swerve and I knew we had to go.

I hurried to the captain. "We have to go. The bomber plane is coming around and these waters are covered in oil. We won't make it if we stay any longer."

He looked at the soldiers who were still in the water, making their way to his boat before looking up at the sky. The situation was dire and he knew it. I could see in his eyes that there was hesitation and I knew it was because he felt responsible for the men onboard and the men that had yet to be rescued.

Without a word, he changed gears and the boat shifted just as the bomber plane let another go not too far from us. I looked out just as the waters lit up in an orangey blaze that was terrifying to see. My heart sank as I watched the soldiers get consumed as the fire spread amongst the oily waters.

We had made a quick about-turn just avoiding the blaze. Seeing the captain's son struggle at the back, I hurried over to see him trying to pull another soldier on board. I leaned forward to take the soldier's other arm as we pulled him into the boat.

The three of us sat on the floor of the boat as we watched the bright fire fade slowly from our view.

* * *

We arrived in Dorset at night and I couldn't help but smile.

I was home.

As I climbed off the boat, a soldier pushes past me with a curt, "Where were you?"

I was stumped.

Though Farrier and I had tried our best to defend the skies for the soldiers' safe passage out of Dunkirk, our efforts were not enough. There were still soldiers that we could not safe, soldiers that we could not bring home.

A hand touched my shoulder and I turned to see the captain.

He gave a comforting smile as he nodded at the soldiers walking before him. "They knew where you were."

I looked at him. How could a man who lost a loved one at war be so kind with his words and actions?

He gave me another pat on the soldier before walking off to find his son. I turned back as I made my way towards the trains that would take me home.

As I searched for the train to London, I heard a familiar voice call my name. I turned around to see Jemima, who started running towards me, eventually closing the gap in a crushing hug. "It is you! I knew you'd be safe!"

Despite my shock at seeing here here, I hugged her tighter and felt tears roll down my cheeks. I said nothing as the hug took away all the fears I had locked up since I went down into the water. She broke the hug and looked at me, cupping my face in her hands. She wiped the tears away with her thumbs as she leaned in to kiss me.

I broke the kiss as my forehead touched hers. "I thought I wasn't going to make it back."

She sniffed. "I did too. But I wasn't going to give up hope."

I stroked Jemima's cheeks as I leaned in to kiss her. "Come on, let's go home."

She leaned in close to me as I put an arm around her as we headed towards the train bound for London.

As we sat in a compartment, Jemima's hand never leaving mine, I looked at the other soldiers on board. The relieved expression of each man was plain to see.

We had all survived Dunkirk in one way or another, and we were all finally going home.


End file.
